


Taking Chances

by Rennie (erin_lee95)



Series: Red Hood: The Untold Story [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws, Under the Red Hood
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erin_lee95/pseuds/Rennie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronnie never really recovered after that night. She still finds herself having nightmares and waking up screaming for him to run. She seems fine on the outside, but masks are easy to wear. A certain anti-hero knows exactly how she feels. When Ronnie meets the mysterious Red Hood she can't help but feel some sort of connection to him. Soon she discovers his story and her link to him is tightened even more. But someone else, someone dangerous and almost unstoppable, is also taking an interest in Ronnie. What will happen when her seemingly fine life collides with the life of Gotham's darkest vigilante?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Class Discussion

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! I just want to give a big thank you to everyone who has been encouraging in their comments! With the blast of emails I've been getting I figured it was time to upload the whole thing! Soon I will post the second installment after a few rewrites! To those of you who have read this before, I've actually made a few changes, added scenes, changed dialogue and overall made it better, I think! To the one nasty anon who wrote the comment that made me stop, thank you, because of you I went back and reworked this story just to be spiteful! Now it's out here on the internet forever for people to enjoy and there's nothing you can do about it! Ha!

Life is unfair and it never goes the way we would like it to. That has always been the motto of Gotham City since before I was born. In this place, one day you're successful and happy and the next you've been robbed of all your money and your family.  
That was the norm for Gotham's citizens for years before I was even a thought in my parents’ heads. Then, a man, known only as The Batman, showed up out of the blue. Thanks to him, crime rates went down and muggers and mob bosses alike were running scarred.  
But The Batman, unfortunately, also brought out the crazies. Arkham Asylum has never been so full. Scarecrow, Penguin, Two-Face… The Joker.  
That last one always sent a shiver down my spine. He was the kind of guy who just wants to watch the world burn down at his fingertips. There was no rhyme or reason behind him and I was the kind of girl who needs a rhyme and reason to everything. Thankfully, though, my interactions with him are limited to the evening news.  
My mom and I lived on the fifth floor of our apartment building located in The Medium. The Medium is where the people "in the middle" of the economic ladder live. We're not rich, my mom and I, but we aren't poor either, just middle class with more than enough money to get by.  
High school is high school. I go to the prestigious Gotham Prep on a scholarship, but thanks to an anonymity clause in the contract, hardly anyone, including the teachers, knows that I'm a scholarship kid. It's an anti-bullying technique used by the school. Not even my (only) friend, Kim, knows. It's not that I'm ashamed of my scholarship, I earned it; it's just easier to go through the day without constantly being reminded of it.  
"Batman should be locked up."  
I look up from my doodle (just a bunch of flowers and leaves) to realize that my government class has, once again, gone off the day's subject of the Bill of Rights to whether or not Batman is good for Gotham. As seniors and on our way out, you'd think we would be able to stay on topic, but that's not the case. And since Batman is one of Mr. Stenholm's favorite subjects, the vigilante tends to come up almost every class period.  
"Batman has done this city a service and gets rebuked for it," Marnie argues. It's safe to say that Marnie is one of Batman's biggest fans.  
"Are you kidding me?" Shelby yells. "The amount of damage he has caused to the city buildings is inexcusable."  
"Whatever," Marnie rolls her eyes. "He does a way better job than all the cops in this city."  
That last statement stings, but I let any argument drift away. I'm not the kind to enter into these kinds of conversations and everyone would just call me biased anyway.  
"Let me ask this," Derek says, causing everybody to hush up. "If he’s so good, what happened to the second Robin?"  
"What are you talking about?" Nancy asks in that annoyingly high pitched voice of hers.  
"The first Robin became Nightwing and moved on to Bludhaven," Derek explains. "There was a second Robin for about three years and then he disappeared. Here we are five years later and we have a new Boy Wonder who is obviously too young to be the second Robin."  
Donna shrugs, "Maybe he decided hero work wasn't his thing?"  
Derek smirks, "Or he was killed. Not really smart to let a kid fight crime."  
Several classmates nod in agreement and some even voicing their opinions on how he died.  
"It's none of our business," someone says loudly.  
I turn to see who it was. Tim Drake, a particularly intelligent junior who sits next to me and a fellow scholarship kid. That last part I only know that because all of us scholarship kids meet each other at the beginning of every year during orientation. Tim's naturally quiet, so hearing him be so bold is kind of a shock.  
"Why do you say that, Drake?" Johnny sneers.  
"Because," Tim answers, matching Johnny’s tone, "if that Robin did die, Batman probably still feels guilty about it and we shouldn't make it worse by having this discussion."  
Rrrrriiinnnnnggggg. The bell signaling the end of the school day ceased the conversation.  
"Nicely put, Tim," Stenholm says as we pack up our books. "See you all next week. Don't forget to read chapter sixteen."  
I wait until all the other students have left the classroom before I gather up my books and exit. On my way out, a question pops into my mind and I want Tim's opinion. When I leave through the front oak doors I spot him outside making his way to a shiny black car parked out front.  
"Tim! Tim!" I yell. He stops, turns around, and waits for me to catch up.  
"Yeah, Ronnie?" Tim asks.  
I bite my lower lip. "I was just curious: do you think he died?"  
Tim flinches back a bit, an unexpected reaction. "Like I said in class, it's not really any of our business so my opinion doesn't really matter." He pauses. "Ronnie, I'm sorry about that cop comment that came out of Marnie's mouth."  
I shake my head. "It's not your fault. And I shouldn't be so sensitive about it anymore."  
"A death in the family isn't something you just get over," Tim squeezes my shoulder.  
I nod my head once and turn to leave, but decide to ask one more question.  
"Tim, if he – the second Robin, that is – is still alive, how old do you think he would be?"  
"Twenty. He'd be twenty." And with that, Tim runs to the car.  
My brain was curious at his answer and his running away, but then again, Tim was always a bit off beat. I make my way to the senior parking lot where Kim is already waiting for me in her car. I open the door and plop down in the passenger seat. All I can think is: T.G.I.F.


	2. Family Visit

"I told you that I can't go out tonight," I say for the third time into the phone as I throw my hair up into a ponytail.

"I know," Kim sighs on the other end of the line, disappointed. "I just figured I could get you to change your mind."

"No way," I confirm. "My brother's stopping by tonight before his shift."

Kim sighs again, "I understand. You hardly get to see him anymore."

"Ronnie!" Mom calls from the living room. "Carson's here!"

 

"He's here," I tell Kim, a smile growing on my face. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."  
"Okay. I'll see ya later." Click.

I toss my cell phone onto my bed and run out of my room straight into the arms of my brother, who was standing in the living room. It's been weeks since I've seen him and it's a relief to see that he's okay. After a long hug, I pull out of Carson's arms and Mom asks Carson about work as we all sit down, Mom and Carson on the couch and me in the armchair. I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around my knees, my focus on Carson.

After a few minutes, I stop listening and take a better look at my brother. We both inherited Dad's gray-green eyes and Mom's auburn hair that tints red in the sunlight. But, thankfully, Carson looks different from the last time I saw him. He doesn't look as tired and finally even shaved his beard. Carson is a good looking guy, but he can't pull off stubble, something my dad didn't pass onto him. Carson looks well fed and less worried. It's nice to see that gleam back in my brother's eyes.

"How's school going for you?" Carson asks me, pulling me out of my head.

"It's fine," I shrug, giving him a standard answer. "I'm ready for it to be over."

Carson shakes his head, laughing at me. "Yeah, I said that too. Now, sometimes I'd give anything to be that age again, no responsibilities and no worries."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, right. You love your job more than us." It comes out harsher than I intended.

"I will never love anything more than you kid." And then he throws a wadded up piece of newspaper at me.

"Mom!"

"Like music to my ears," she giggles.

Sometime after dinner, I sneak off to my room, change out of my school uniform, pulling on flannel pajama bottoms instead, and sit at my window seat, looking down at the city. I love listening to my brother talk about his work, but one could only take so much of the dreariness of unsolved cases and of him complaining about Batman and how a new criminal, someone called "Red Hood," was causing trouble for the Gotham PD. With all these masks running around, it's hard to remember what's sane anymore.

I hear the door squeak open, but I don't look to see who it is. I know its Carson.

"Tired already?" he asks.

I shake my head, "Just thoughtful."

"Mom's gone to work," Carson says as he sits down across from me, "so I think it's safe to give you this." He holds out a small Polaroid. As I take it, Carson says, "Don't let Mom see you with that. You know how she feels about removing pictures from the photo albums, even though I found this one in a show box at my place."

I smirk, "I'll just blame it on you." While Carson laughs I examine the picture he gave me.

A man in his early thirties, wearing a black and white prisoner's costume, was holding a little freckled, brown-haired girl in a mini-cop's uniform, gear belt and all. The man had military short dirty blonde hair and shining, gray-green eyes.

Daddy.

I remember this Halloween because it was his last.

"Funny how you gave me the one without you in it," I comment to take my mind off that night. Sometimes it helps to focus on the happy memories, but they rarely want to stick around.

Carson shudders in horror, "That Robin costume was a mistake."

I smile. "Remember what Mom was?"

"Yeah," Carson nods. "Mom. Always said that she did enough work to be called a superhero."

I laugh, "We called her 'SuperMom' for the longest time after that. She got so annoyed."

Our laughter dies out as our eyes focus on the Polaroid in my hand.

"I still miss him," I admit.

Carson runs his hand over my hair as he says, "We always will. All we can do is to try to make him proud." He kisses my forehead, just like Dad used to do, "I gotta get to work, Kiddo. I'll see ya soon."

"Alright," I nod as he leaves.

The thing is, the last time he said that I didn't see him for three weeks. He was too busy working with the Commissioner to try and catch some crook the media dubbed “Firefly”. My brother has worked hard to become one of the youngest lieutenants on the force. He never wanted to stay a street cop, but sometimes I wonder if the sacrifices are worth it.

As much as I love my brother, I also hate what his job entails. It cost me my dad. I can't stand the idea of it costing my brother too.


	3. First Meeting

As soon as Carson's gone I open the right side of my window and sit on the window pane, one leg in and one leg out as I lean against the side. Mom's always warning me that one day I'll fall right out, but the breeze is soothing. I hold the picture up in the moonlight to look at it better until a gust of wind rips the photo from my hand.

"Shit." I quickly shut the window, throw on my converse shoes and a jacket and run out of the apartment, locking the door on my way.

When I get to the alley below my window I search the ground for the photo. It's nowhere to be found. One of my favorite memories with my father is just gone.

"Crap, crap, crap, crap." I am so dead.

"Looking for this?"

I turn around to face where the voice came from. A figure leans against the building, hiding in the shadows and holding up my picture.  
Hesitantly, I answer, "Yeah, I am." When you're a cop's daughter, suspicion of everyone becomes second nature.

The figure pushes off the wall and steps into the light. I flinch and take a step back. The figure is a tall man in combat boots, black pants, black body armor, matching gloves and a brown leather jacket. But that isn't what made me flinch. It was the red helmet that covered his face.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"The name's Red Hood." A shadow passes over us. Red Hood walks over to me and shoves the Polaroid into my hands. "There's your picture. You better get out of here. The show is about to start and the next few minutes aren't going to be pretty." Without another word of explanation he takes of down the street.

I turn to go back inside, but I hesitate. I can't help it; I was born with my dad's curiosity. So, without a second thought, I slip the photo into my jacket pocket and follow the mysterious Red Hood.

I haven't gone a block when I find him. I stay against the closest building and crouch in the shadows. Then, I realize he's not alone.

The Batman is standing in front of Red Hood. Before this I had never seen Batman in person, only blurred pictures from the television and classmates' phones. This night is becoming surreal.

"Are we doomed to repeat this conversation every night, old man?" Red yells.

Batman takes a step towards Red Hood. "You know I am only trying to help you."

Red gives off a short laugh. "Help me? More like monitor me. Because you don’t trust me."

"You're not killing anymore," Batman says simply. "Still seriously injuring people, but not killing." He pauses. "That’s a first step."

"Then what?" Red questions. "Then you’ll let me back in your little gang? You won’t ever trust me again."

Batman frowned, “The incident with the mayor–”

“Didn’t change a thing,” Red Hood finished for him. “Funny, it was you who once told me that sometimes you just have to give people a chance and they just might surprise you.” He smirked. “You certainly got the surprise part right, considering the surprise I got when I came back to this dump.”

Batman shakes his head, "You're still angry. Understandably so. You never got your revenge. And I never taught you to let go of that anger."

"That doesn't interest me anymore." Red Hood's head moves around like he's searching for something. "So, where's the new Robin? My replacement?"

So Red Hood is the formal Robin. Donna, I guess, was right. Hero work didn't seem to be his thing. He was too aggressive. Too… unstable. There was something about him that was eerily familiar. And – I hate to admit this – intriguing. Dad would've grounded me for a month if he knew that single thought had crossed my mind.

"This is between you and me," Batman said, pulling me out of my head.

"I bet he likes having the night off," Red muses.

"Yes. I gave him the night off. He deserves it."

"Well, look-y here!"

I look up to see several thugs with AK-47s standing on the fire escape of the building diagonally from me.  
"Looks like we've got Rodent-man and Little Red Riding Hood in our territory," the ring-leader mocks. The Medium gets its share of crime and the crime lords sometimes hide out in middle income neighborhoods to evade the police who search in the richer parts of Gotham.  
"Don't you know it's rude to come to a party uninvited?" Red shoots back.

Like a signal, the ringleader gives a short laugh and the thugs start shooting. I shrink back into the wall as Red Hood pulls out two pistols and shoots back as Batman throws several of his gadgets, including his Batarang, while avoiding the bullets.

Suddenly, Red yells, "Keep 'em busy," and runs in my direction. He reaches out and pulls me up by my arm. "Get out of here unless you want to be shot. Trust me, it's not a fun experience." He turns to go back to the fight, then over his shoulder he yells, "In case you were wondering: I knew you were there the whole time."  
I watch his retreating back, mouth hanging open and wondering how he could have possibly known, and then, when the noise of ricocheting bullets pulls me back to reality, I turn and run. After a few seconds, I turn my head around to look back at the fight and I run into a fire escape ladder. There's a tug at my neck as I fall, like an idiot, on to my backside. I scramble up at the sound of gunfire and keep running until I reach the apartment.

It takes me a few tries to unlock the door, but when I finally get it, I slam the door behind me. Leaning against the door, I slide down. Mom is going to kill if ever she finds out. I put my hands to my chest to try and calm my heart. That's when I realize that my locket is gone.

I groan internally.


	4. Nightmares

I dread slipping into bed. I know, thanks to tonight's events, that too many memories will begin to surface and the dream – the nightmare – will certainly be coming back. Slipping off the jacket and shoes, I make my way to my room. Despite my worries of tossing and turning, I drift off with ease.

The dark alleyway is back. I know, subconsciously, what this alley leads to, but I follow it anyway. Only streetlamps light my way. I know that I am still in Gotham, but where in my city, I do not know.

"Stop right there!" I hear a deep voice yell. It’s familiarity rings in my ears.

I run towards the voice to find my way being blocked by a brick wall that seemed to go up and on forever. There is no end to the wall and no weak points either.  
"I'm innocent!" I hear another man yell, fear and nervousness fill his voice.

I pound and pound my fists on the brick wall that separates me from the other side. All I can hear is the huffing breaths of the men I cannot see. Anxiety hits as I try to find some way through or around the wall. My fingers dig at the brick, clawing to find any sort of support to start climbing.

"I know you're desperate," the first man says calmly, "But you can get out of this. We can both walk away from this. Please, don't do anything you might regret."

"I can't go back to jail!" the second man howls. "I can't!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"NO!" I scream as I hit my fists harder and harder against the brick until the wall finally comes crumbling down.

One of the men is gone, but the other is lying on the ground; his chest wasn't moving. I start to run as hard and fast as I could towards him, but the more I run the farther away the man becomes. Ambulances and police cars show up and surround the man, but I still can't get any closer.

Finally, I stop running and just give up. I watch the policemen as the hang their heads down and cry into each other’s' shoulders.

"No!" I yell at them. "He's not dead! Help him, he's not dead!" None of them hear me. Even if they did, I knew there wasn't anything any of us could do.

As if a giant hand pushed on my back, I fall forward and find myself on my knees next to the dead man. A cop shines his flashlight on to the man's face and I scream.

I wake with start. My face is covered with sweat and tears threaten to fall down. I shake away the face of my father lying there on the ground, but it doesn't help. Trying to throw the dream out of my mind, I groan and drag myself out of bed. I go through my normal Saturday routine, trying to find a rhythm.   
Around ten o'clock, I decide to go back to the street I had seen Red Hood and Batman, but after looking around for a hefty amount of time, my locket is nowhere in sight. My cell phone sends vibrations through my leg and I yank the phone out of my pocket and answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ronnie. It's Kim. You wanna catch a movie today? I’m so bored."

I sigh. I need normalcy anyway. "Yeah, sure. Mom's still at work and I don't have anything to do."

"Sweet. Be at your place in fifteen."

I checked the time and there was no way I'd be ready in time. "Hey, can we make it half an hour. I'm," I look around me, searching for a lie, "at the corner store."  
"Yeah, sure. No problem. See ya then."

"See ya." Click.

I slip my phone into my pocket and rush back home. I take a quick shower and let my hair air dry while I pick out an outfit. Finally settling on a long sleeved, off the shoulder blouse, skinny jeans and heelless black boots, I meet Kim downstairs.

On our way to the theatre, we talk boys, snobs and how long the newest couples would last. It was nice to talk about normal teenage stuff. Even so, I can't bring myself to tell Kim about last night. I don't know what's holding me back, she's my best friend. I just… can't. She might not believe me anyway. Or yell at me for going after the Red Hood.

At the movie theatre, we pick some movie about a futuristic Pocahontas. It was interesting, but there were so many flashing lights and fast paced action sequences, I'm thankful that it's over. All I really want to do is go home. Normalcy just wasn't my calming thing apparently. But, first, Kim had to pee.

I'm waiting on a bench outside the restrooms when I see a familiar face standing out among the crowd.

"Tim!" I call. I get his attention and he comes up to me.

"Hey, Ronnie," he says with a head nod. "Did you just get down seeing a movie?" he asks. "Or are you waiting on one to start?" His face seems hopeful. 

"Already saw one," I answer. "Just waiting on Kim to get out of the restroom."

As Tim nods I notice that for once he looks well rested like he got more than two hours of sleep. When I mention this, Tim laughs.

"Bruce gave me the night off for once. I didn't realize how tired I was until I actually fell asleep. Almost didn't get up this morning."

Wait a second. "He gave you the night off?" I ask. "Last night?"

"Yeah."

Que flashback to last night.

I bet he likes having the night off.

Yes. I gave him the night off. He deserves it.

I shake my head.

Coincidence. I tell myself. It has to be.

"Tim, there you are." Another black-haired, blue-eyed boy – man would probably be a better term – comes up behind Tim.

"Sorry," Tim says, "I ran into a friend." He turns to me, "Ronnie, this is Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's adopted son. Dick, this is Ronnie Reid, a friend of mine from school."

Dick holds out his hand and I take it.

"It's nice to meet you," he says pleasantly.

"And you," I say. "Did you just come back from Blüdhaven for a visit?" I flinch internally at my forwardness. I don't know him personally, but the Wayne extended family was always in the news. It was pretty big deal when the young ward packed up and moved to the next city over with now explanation. 

Dick smiles, "Something like that."

Kim finally gets back, her eyes huge at my company. We waved goodbye and head out to the parking lot.

In the car, Kim asks, "Was that Dick Grayson back from Blüdhaven?"

I nod, "Yup."

Her smile widens, "You know who else is back from Blüdhaven?"

I raise an eyebrow, "Who?"

"Nightwing. Apparently he was spotted last night somewhere down in the Narrows. Some girls were talking about it in the restroom." She snorts, "They were also talking about his backside, like they have a chance."

"Wow, Gotham is just overrunning with vigilantes," I mumble.

"No kidding," Kim agrees. "Also do you think Batman has black hair?"

I throw her a confused look. "Why do you say that?"

"Well," she shrugs, "all the Robins have had dark hair. It would just make sense, the uniformity."

I slump back in my seat. All the Robins did have dark or black hair.

And so did Tim.


	5. Secrets

Kim drops me off and I rush up to the apartment and into my room. Mom's running one of her twenty-four hour shifts at the hospital so I'm home alone again tonight and don't have to answer any questions.

No. No, this is all too strange. All too… similar.

But when I do think about it, it all makes sense. Bruce Wayne would have the money for Batman's gadgets. Dick Grayson would have Nightwing's acrobatic skills with his history with the circus. And Red Hood knew, he knew Batman. Personally.

What if–

I fire up my laptop and log into the Gotham Gazette website. It doesn't take me long to find a recent picture of the latest Robin considering him and Batman are front page news every other day. 

Going with my hunch, I upload the photo to Photoshop along with Tim's yearbook photo from the previous year that I scan into the computer. I have to work a little magic on the picture of Robin, considering that the picture was taken at night and from a distance. After all the fixing was done, I make one picture transparent, line the two of them up and… they match almost perfectly. I slump down in my chair.

So, though I could still definitely be wrong, I may have possibly deduced the identities of Batman, Nightwing/Robin One, and Robin Three. But who was the second boy wonder?

All I know is that he was the Robin who shattered collarbones every other night.

Reporters went crazy over the evidence that the Batman's newest sidekick went just a little too far in interrogations and trying to catch the bad guys. "Reckless" and "dangerous" were the most common words to be used.

The easiest thing to do is just Google Bruce Wayne's history. After shifting through countless charity events and stock articles, I finally find the article that tells all.  
Dick isn't the only boy Bruce Wayne had adopted. Apparently, he adopted another boy named Jason Todd just a few months after Dick left and Nightwing appeared. Then another month or two later, Robin reappeared in the streets, younger than the last. According to the official reports, Todd died in a bomb explosion in Ethiopia.  
"This guy has no luck."

The article read that Jason is dead and buried, but I can't help but feel in my gut that he's alive and now wears brown leather and a red helmet. It just made so much sense. Stranger things have happened in Gotham.

Tap, tap, tap.

 

Startled, I quickly close my laptop and walk over to my window.

It's Red Hood. He motions for me to open the window. I hesitantly oblige.

"Can I help you?" I ask to try and hide my pounding heart. Wait. Why is it pounding? Maybe it's the fact that I was probably just looking up the history of the reckless Robin. I don't like coincidences and this was just too scary.

Did he know that I was researching him? Did he somehow hack my computer? Wy would he even feel the need to do that?

"I thought you'd want this back." Red holds up his hand like he's about to drop a yo-yo, but instead of a yo-yo, my locket drops and hangs from his fingers.  
"Oh, my– thank you!" I squeal as I take the necklace from him and slip it over my head. Holding the heart-shaped locket in my hands once again feels amazing. "I thought it was gone for good."

"Picked it up last night," Red explains without an ounce of emotion. "Didn't need the police wondering where it came from."

I’m not sure how to respond. Thanks to the silence, I'm thinking he's about to leave when he suddenly asks, "Why is it empty?"

"Oh, um." I blink several times. It's such a straight forward question. Not to mention that means he had to have opened the locket. I finally say, "It's kind of a long story."

Red reclines on my window seat, "I've got time."

"Why do you even want to know?" I snap.

He just shrugs his shoulders. "Just a strong curiosity. And I've got some time to kill."

"So prying to the personal life of someone you don't even know is how you kill time?"

"Well you did follow me into that alley after I explicitly told you not to."

He's got me there. Besides, the quicker I tell him the story, the quicker he'd leave.

I sigh and plop down on my bed.

"My dad gave it to me for Christmas when I was ten. After a while, I got sick of it being empty so I went up to my dad while he was on the computer and asked for of picture of him so it wouldn't be empty anymore. He said no. I was so hurt I was about to cry when he picked me up and placed me on his lap.” The corners of my lips turn up just a tad. “He said that the reason he wouldn't give me a picture was because that's not what it was for. Even though I was still young, it was meant for the person who had captured my heart so the world would know. It's a tradition in my family. My mom has one that still has a picture of my dad in her locket. And so, for me, it remains empty." I looked down at my locket and my lips split into a full-fledged smile at the memory of my father.

After a few seconds of silence, Red scoffs, "That was sappy."

Well, screw you!

Hurt at the comment, I yell, "Shut up and freaking leave! You're the one who wanted to hear it in the first place! No one forced you to listen." I storm out of my room, wanting to just get away from him. You don't cross that line when it comes to my dad.

I find myself in front of my dad's academy portrait that Mom still has hanging in the living room near the door. My vision is beginning to become blurry from tears building up. I can hear Red come up behind me.

"I said 'go away,'" I growl.

While staring at the photo, Red asks, "What happened to him?"

Another blunt question. Soon I'd be hitting him with a blunt object.

I sniff and wipe an escaped tear from my cheek. "He was driving through the Narrows when he saw a suspicious figure. Just doing his job, he pulled over and approached the man. Something about his behavior made my dad asked him to empty his pockets, and then the man took off. Dad chased him into an alley with a dead end. Cornered, the man pulled out a gun and shot my dad. Hit him high enough to avoid the vest. Dad died in the hospital. I was only ten years old."

"I'm sorry."

He meant it. For once his voice wasn't harsh or sarcastic or cocky. It was… sincere and concerned.

"Who was the man?" he asks.

"Jack Dodge," my voice comes out shaky. "He's a drug dealer. Made a plea bargain with the DA and got voluntary manslaughter murder with the possibility of parole. He barely served seven, got out last year." Now I can hardly control myself, I'm shaking so fiercely. "They released him for good behavior and because of over-crowding issues. He's back on the streets, dealing more than ever." I turn away from my dad's portrait and look at Red. "My dad fought hard for justice and received none in return."

"I'm sorry–"

I shake my head. "It's not your fault. That's just the way of good old Gotham City."

"It shouldn’t be." He turns his head in the direction of the wall clock and clears his throat. "It's bad timing, but I–"

"Gotta go," I finish for him. Good. I need time to recover. "I get it. I'm used to it."

I follow Red back to my room. He stops right before he's about to go out the window.

"I'll see you around, Ronnie."

I'm shocked that he knows my name until I remember that I know his. Probably not the right time to let him know that bit of information.

I nod, "See ya."

I release the breath I was holding when Red disappears. I have never told anyone the story of my dad not that in depth. Kim knows the story, but not the details. We don't talk about them. I don't know what made me tell the vigilante. There's just something about him. It scares the hell out of me.


	6. The Offer

I've had a hard time sleeping the past few nights. Tuesday night is no different. Mom's not here to help calm my troubled mind, so I get dressed and decided to take a short walk. The air outside is cold. I let it numb me as I walk aimlessly around the neighborhood, keeping part of me alert at all times.

My mind wanders along with my feet. 

For the past few days I've tried to get to know Tim. I mean, we're friends, but only in the smallest sense. I don't know him that well. I haven't told him that I'm pretty sure he's Robin. In observing his behavior lately, I feel even more concrete in that conclusion. It's hard to start that conversation surrounded by people, aka gossiping teenagers who's all-time favorite sport is eavesdropping.

I tried to tell him earlier today, I really did.

I had caught Tim before he made it to the black car that picks him up every day.

"What do you need, Ronnie?" he asked. Thinking back, I should have realized that Tim was in a hurry. Probably had some detective work to do, but I didn't care. I needed someone to share the burden of this secret with and I figured Tim needed someone to vent to every now and then.

"I really have no idea how to say this," I said, biting my lip, "but I think you need someone to talk to about it and since I could probably understand and be there if you need to talk–" Tim raised an eyebrow and I realized that I was rambling.

Why couldn't I have just said it? It wasn't that complicated of a sentence.

"Umm…" Tim look as confused as I felt. "What?"

I sighed. "Look, Tim, I–"

"Tim, come on! We've got work to do!" Bruce Wayne had gotten out of the back seat of the black car. I had seen Wayne plenty of times on the television, but seeing him in person and knowing that he's The Batman kind of gave me a new sense of awe.

"Okay!" Tim yelled. "I'm coming!" He looked at me apologetically. "Ronnie, I gotta go. We'll talk later, okay?" I nodded and he took off.

I don't when we'll have that talk. Should I say something to Red first or Tim? Who am I kidding? I might not even see Red again beyond the nightly news. That thought made my heart sink.

That's another thing. Red Hood's character seems so… conflicting. One story will be how Red Hood has seized another section of the drug trade and possibly assaulted an entire gang in an alley way and then a reporter will be interviewing a civilian on how Red Hood saved her from a mugger and would-be rapist. On the surface, Red Hood looks like he's on the exact same level of evil as the Black Mask, but if you look deeper, he's helping Gotham, in his own way.

I don't know what to believe anymore.

My world has always been black and white. Good cops, bad guys. The law was the law. So what happens when the colors begin to blend and your world starts turning gray?

A cat meows near a trash can and I realize that I'm stuck in a closed off alley and completely lost. No street signs are visible and no one is around. Or so I think.  
"Well, well, well. Wasn't that easy?"

Two thugs that look like the poster boys for hired muscle drop from a fire escape and close me in.

"Figured we have to wait till daylight to find this one," the second thug crackles.

"What do you want?" I ask, trying to sound brave. I've taken purse snatchers and muggers down before, but that was one on one. No way could five-foot-three me take down the six-foot-two-and-two-hundred-twenty twins that stand before me.

"Our boss has a very generous offer for you," the first one answers.

"Who's your boss?" I don't really care about the answer. I'm just trying to distract them until I can find a way out.

"She's not supposed to know, Benny!" the second one whispers.

"I know that!" Benny yells. He looks at me and sneers, "That's need to know. But he would like you to know the conditions of the offer."

I take a quick peek around the alley. "Which is…?" No way out.

Thug number two laughs. "You help him get the Red Hood and he'll let you live."

I step back. "I don't even know the Red Hood. Even if I did, I would never help you or your 'boss.'"

"He thought you'd say that," Benny smiles menacingly. "That's why he said I could… persuade you."

"The lady said no." Red drops out of the shadows and places himself between me and the thugs. He's close enough to me that I can smell a mixture of cologne and gun powder on him. Who knew those two smells could be so alluring?

Benny scrunches his eyebrows together. I'm not sure if he's frustrated or confused. "Boss said that we're not allowed to take you down ourselves. Unfortunately for us, the boss has special plans for you."

"I'll make you two boneheads a deal: I won't break every bone in your body for threatening someone under my protection and you will leave this alley and never bother her again." Red loads the clip into his pistol for emphasis.

Benny looks to his partner and then says to me over Red's shoulder, "See ya around, Sweetheart."

Red pulls the trigger and a bullet ricochets off the ground near Benny's feet. Benny throws Red a look and takes off, his buddy on his heels.

I roll my eyes at the entire situation and start to walk away.

"What? Not even a 'thank you?'" Red calls after me.

I swirl around, speed walk up to him and shove him hard in the chest. It wasn't enough to send his butt to the ground, but I threw off his balance. "I don't need, nor do I want, your protection!" I yell. "I am perfectly fine on my own; I can take care of myself!"

"Yeah, you really had that situation under control," he mocks.

"I would have gotten myself out of it. Besides nothing even happened before you had shown up." He just doesn't get it. He doesn't understand.  
Red shakes his head. "Or they could've overpowered you and you would now be in the hands of whoever they work for."

I scoff. "Well, we'll never know, now, will we?"

"What is your problem with people helping you?" Red's voice sounds like a mixture of disgust and curiosity.

Slightly calmer, I answer, "I was raised to take care of myself. The idea of someone taking care of me scares the hell out of me. It makes me feel weak and useless."  
"Why would you feel that way?" Red takes a step towards me.

I bite my lip. I try to say the reason out loud, but the words get caught in my throat. The delinquent who hardly knows me is asking way too many questions. Trying way too hard to get under my skin.

Water fills my eyes and, at my horror, one tiny tear escapes down my cheek. Red reaches out and wipes it away. He's still holding my cheek in his palm when he whispers, "Please tell me why?"

That cracks the shell.

"I-I'm afraid that if I let my guard down for one second, I'll go the same way my father did," I finally choke out. "He hesitated and it cost him."

"You'll never go that way." Red pulls me into his arms and repeats into my hair, "You'll never go that way, Ronnie. Not if I have anything to say about it."


	7. Cracking

I got home okay. Red put me on his back and flew across the rooftops until we made it to my window. I wasn't in any condition to say anything besides goodbye, but I think Red understood.

For the rest of the week I just went through the motions. I didn't really care about what was going on with everyone else. I didn't try to seek out Tim to have "that conversation." I was a recluse for the entire weekend as I tried – and failed – to fix the little crack.

Finally, Sunday evening comes and I'm getting back to somewhat regular; I don’t think I could ever be normal.

 

I'm finishing up the homework I forgot to do while I sit on the couch. The news is on while Mom gets ready for her shift at the hospital. In the middle of a math problem, I hear, "Convicted murderer and drug dealer, Jack Dodge was found brutally beaten–"

My head snaps up. "Mom!"

"What is it, Sweetie?" Mom asks as she walks in. I simply scramble for the remote and turn up the volume.

"Dodge is currently unconscious in the ICU after receiving several heavy blows to the head and torso. Multiple ribs and facial bones are bruised and broken and he may have internal bleeding. The police don't have any strong suspects, but they are looking closely at the Red Hood–" Mom turns the TV off.

I turn to look at her, "Mom?"

"That poor man," is all she says. I can't believe she just said that. I stand up.

"That poor man?" I ask. "He deserves what he got!"

Shock takes over my mother's face. "Ronnie! No one deserves that!"

I scoff. "How can you say that?"

"Because it's true," she says simply. Behind Mom, I see something move in the gleam of the wall clock. Mom kisses my head as she grabs her keys. "Be good and don't dwell on it."

While she shuffles out the door, I flop down on the couch, thinking about what she said. Dad would have yelled at me if he heard me condoning violence. He made it his life to eradicate hate and crime from this place. Here I was, being an idiot. 

When I know that Mom is gone for good and I’d calmed down, I say to the air, "You can come out now. I know you're there."

"The old bat's easier to seek up on," Red says as he comes out of my room. "How did you know?"

I shrug. "Well, the news gave me a hint that you might be stopping by and then I saw a shadow reflect in the clock. It became obvious then."

Red gave a small laugh. "So, you think I did that to Jackie?"

I shake my head, cross my arms and scoff. "Did you?"

After a few seconds of silence, he answered, "Yeah. Yeah. I did it."

A small huff escaped my lips. "Why?"

Red turned his helmet away from me. "For some odd reason, I didn't like seeing you cry."

Wow. Embarrassed, I stammer out, "Oh. Well, you shouldn't have done it."

"Why?" he challenged. "Even you said that he deserved what he got."

"Yeah, but–" I sigh. My dad's words come out of my mouth, "My mom was right. That isn't justice. It was revenge. Revenge doesn't do any good. All it does is eat away at your heart until there's nothing left. Until you're suddenly going to extremes just to get your revenge and you could die. Or waste your life."  
I would give anything to see Red Hood's face at this moment. He's a mystery I want to solve and yet I don't want anything to do with him. I can't help but feel like we're in the same boat. Like we both have something eating away at us: Pain. Abandonment. Longing for someone else to understand, but lacking the ability to let someone in.

Red abruptly turns away from me and heads back into my room. I catch him as he's about to climb through my window.

"Wait!" I beg.

"Why should I?" he challenges. “I’m obviously too much of a revenge-seeker to be around you.”

I'm stuck. Should I tell him why I don't want him to go? Like the fact that I don't feel so empty when he's around? Or maybe that I have finally found someone who understands the confusion I'm going through and I found that person in him?

No. All those reasons would let him behind my walls and I don't know if I could do that just yet. I only have one option to keep him here. It's now or never.

I swallow. "I know who you are."

And I sound like a bad action movie.

Red laughs a short laugh, "Cute." He starts to leave again.

I whisper, "Jason."

He stops and slowly reenters my room. As he stands up, he takes off the red helmet, revealing raven black hair and a red mask like Robin's covering his eyes. I can't help but wonder what color they are.

Jason smirks. "How did you figure it out?"

"A lot of clues just fell into my lap, especially after that first night. I figured out Tim and Dick, along with Bruce. You were a little harder to find."  
"Bruce wanted it that way. I am his greatest failure."

I bite my bottom lip. "The article I found said that you'd died in a bombing. This may be a stupid question, but is that true?"

Jason sits down on the window seat, letting one leg dangle and the other bent with the knee close to his chest. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

I sit down on my bed and Jason becomes lost in the memory. "I had found my birth mother. She was in Ethiopia as an aid worker and she was being blackmailed by the Joker for medical supplies. I don't know what dirt he had on her. I tried to help her get out of it, but I ended tied up in a warehouse with my so-called mother, who had sold me out to the Joker."

He scoffs, "My own mother. She stood there, tied to a pole and watched me get beaten with a crowbar for hours. Finally, the Joker left. Bruce was on his way, but the bomb went off right as he arrived. Neither me nor the woman survived." He looks up at me. "Six months later, I'm crawling out of the Lazarus Pit and Talia al Ghul took me in. It was very different from living under Bruce’s roof.”

I knit my eyebrows, "What’s a Lazarus Pit?"

"It's a pool deep underground in some random corner of the world with healing powers. Talia's father, Ra's al Ghul, has used it to keep himself alive for the past six hundred years."

"Oh." I tuck my knees under my chin. "What happened after that? You said it was different than being under Bruce?"

Jason just shrugs, "I was healed, though angrier and more bloodthirsty than ever. I learned that my death was never avenged, so I trained. I trained more than I ever had as Robin. After years of learning to fight logically and using my anger as fuel, I came back to Gotham. I tried to force Bruce to avenge me, while cleaning up this city and becoming a better Batman than he ever was. The first motive didn't work out so well and I'm still working on the second."

I drop my knees and cross my legs Indian style.

"They say you're a crime lord," I say softly, "but at the same time, thanks to you, crime rates are going down and drug dealers are refusing to sell to anyone under twenty years old."

Jason just laughs quietly.

"Have you ever killed someone?" I ask. I wanted to know if it was just the news making assumptions. Jason avoids my gaze. Two can play at the blunt questions game.

Still not looking at me, he says, "I used to kill without hesitation, but especially lately, I only use it as a last resort and if an innocent's life is threatened."

"What's changed lately?"

Jason doesn't answer. Time to try a different approach.

"How do you know me?"

Jason's head snaps up. "What?"

"It sounds crazy," I say, "but you knew… about me before I knew you. You even knew my name and where I live."

That cocky smile is back. "One night I was staking out the police station. I saw you come out of the building. I noticed a man following you, so I kept an eye on you. Didn't need to though. You took him down in ten seconds. I admired that. Not many people can take care of themselves in this city. So, I kept on keeping an eye on you. Tim slipped me some information, but he never mentioned your dad."

Whoa. "Tim told you about me?" I guess I haven’t been the only one doing some sleuthing. 

"Yeah," Jason shrugs. "Just general things. The two of you are kind of friends, but he didn't give me much to go on. I had to observe most of it myself."

I can feel my face turning bright red. "Wow. I can just imagine the embarrassing things I've done."

Jason smirks. "You look cute dancing around in you PJs, singing into your hairbrush."

I take said hairbrush and throw it, but Jason just knocks it away, laughing.

"So, I fascinate you, huh?" I say drily.

Jason stands up and walks over to me. He leans close to me, our faces inches apart and his outstretched arms on the bed on either side of me.  
I don't like it. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to run. The cracking of my walls echoes around me. I'm not the girl who does this.

He whispers, "You fascinate me greatly," and our lips meet. Jason slips one arm around my waist and his other hand in my hair, his palm resting on my neck and his thumb caressing my cheek.

It took too much strength, but I pushed him away, adding in a punch to his shoulder. He steps back and I push myself to the back of my bed so my shoulder blades are against the wall.

"Okay, that's not a normal reaction," Jason murmurs.

"I hardly know you," I scoff. Then a fear creeps up, mocking me. "Is that what you've been doing this whole time? Just trying to get into my pants?"  
I swear if that's true, I will break.

"No, Ronnie," Jason shakes his head. "I didn't mean to come across that way. Besides, it couldn't have been that bad."

I shrug. "I didn't say it was bad."

"Also," he smolders at me behind the mask, "we can get to know each other. I feel a kindred spirit in you, Ronnie. I'm not sure if I'd ever be able to fully stay away."  
The words sound like a line. Some part of me is screaming that they are. But that's exactly how I feel. Exactly what I've been thinking for the past few days. I don't go around kissing random people. But there is something there. Like a hole starting to be filled.

Jason approaches me more slowly this time, leaning across the bed, but not getting on it. His fingers caress my neck with his thumb following my cheekbone. My breathing picks up pace and my heart along with it. Jason's other arm wraps around my waist again just as our lips touch. He's hesitant at first, waiting for me to push him away again. But I don't. Instead I follow his lead and his rhythm.

I'm forced up on my knees as the kiss deepens and Jason straightens his back, pulling me up with him. I snake my fingers through his hair as my other hand explores the cut muscles around his hips and torso.

So this was bliss. There was a fire left behind wherever Jason touched me. My walls were completely cracked and I didn't care to patch them up. My cells are no longer yelling at me to run. Instead, they want more. But nothing lasts forever.

Finally, the sound of police sirens breaks us apart.

"I've got a job to do," Jason says, our faces still inches apart and his hands cradling my chin and neck.

I nod slowly, biting my bottom lip. "Go get 'em, tiger."

Jason rolls his eyes and picks up his helmet.

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

 

I smirk, "Yeah. My mom works the night shift at the hospital." I facepalm. "I totally didn't mean it like that."

"Sure." Jason steals one last kiss from me, winks and puts his helmet back on, disappearing into the night.


	8. Time to Talk

On Monday, I decide it's time to talk to Tim. School is the only possible time, so I find Tim during my free period. Just my luck, he has a free period too.  
"Tim, can we talk?" I ask him in an empty hallway.

"Sure, what's up?"

I look around. "Not here."

I lead Tim to the auxiliary gym, where we sit at the top of the bleachers.

"What's so important that we had to come to an empty gym?" Tim asks.

I sigh. Several weeks later and still it’s not any easier. "Tim, I…,” I groan. “I know about your… late night activities."

He stiffens, then shakes it off. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Smirking, I tease, "You can't fool me, Robin."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Reid,” he insists. “I run errands for Bruce, that's it."

"Yeah, well," I shrug, "picking up bad guys for the billionaire sure is hard work. I can understand why you’re tired all the time."

Tim starts to get up, "Look, Ronnie, I don't know where this imagination of yours came from, but you'd better rein it in before it runs away with you."

Fine, I huff in my head. I’ll go straight to it. "I already know about Jason." Tim freezes mid step. "He told me most of it last night."

Tim turns back around. "What exactly is it that you know?" He’s still testing me. 

"I know about Bruce being… what he is, and Dick being the first and… and what happened to Jason."

Tim lets out a deep breath. "Wow. So basically everything?"

"Yup," I nod, "even the fact that you've been telling Jason a lot about me. I just don't know the particulars of your conversation."  
He shrugs, "Do you wanna know?"

I nod. Of course I want to know. It would be annoying to tell Jason things and then have him do that stupid little smirk and say, "I know."

"Well," Tim continues, sitting back down beside me and collapsing against the wall. "I told him that you're pretty near the top of your class, you don't really participate in extracurricular activities. You visit the police station twice a week and go to the shooting range to fire your nine-mil every Thursday. You have a short temper. Stupid people annoy you and you jump to conclusions, and then refuse to talk to anyone when proven wrong."

I want to argue, but Tim pretty much summed me up. I am far from perfect. I let out a short laugh. "I knew we were friends, but not that close."

"I'm observant," Tim explains. "How do you think I discovered Bruce was the Bat?"

I straighten up. "So that's how you became Robin? You just figured it out?"

"Yeah," he nods. "After years of collecting evidence, I confronted Bruce about it in his mansion. He wanted to throw me out, or something, but Alfred, his butler, convinced him otherwise. It took a lot of work, but finally Alfred and I were able to persuade Bruce to let me become Robin."

"So, you really are observant," I say. "But from what you said about me, I'm surprised Jason still comes around." I really am. I'm not an easy person to get along with. Sometimes even Carson gets irritated with me. I just have a lot of quirks that are a bit hard to understand.

Tim laughs. And keeps laughing.

"What?" I ask. When he doesn't answer I say again, "What?"

Tim finally chokes out, "I never thought it would actually happen."

I scrunch my eyebrows. "What? That what would happen?" I think Tim's gone crazy.

"Jason hardly stays in one place for long. He doesn't do well with attachments. Jason and I are close, but we both have an understanding that he could disappear from Gotham any day. I'm amazed that Jason even approached you."

I nod. Before last night, I had wondered why Jason kept coming around. But everyone has an anchor. I might have left long ago if it weren't for my mom. Maybe I'm Jason's anchor?

Then I remember one detail Tim had left out in his conversations with Jason.

"Hey, Tim?"

He cocks his head to the side. "Yeah?"

I pick my fingernails. "How come you didn't tell Jason about my dad?"

"I didn't think it was my place to tell."

I smile. "Thank you."

Rrrrriiiiinnnnnnggggg. Time for class.

Back to the real world. "Well, I'll see ya later, Tim."

"Yeah, see ya."

I can't explain the happiness I felt when the school day was over. I relax the minute I walk through the door and into the apartment. Mom walks in fifteen minutes after me with groceries in hand.

"Oh, good you're home," Mom says with a smile. "You got a letter in the mail today."

I look up at her and tilt my head, "A letter? From who?"

"I don’t know, there's no return address," she answers. "It's on the coffee table."

After I help Mom put away the groceries, I sit on the couch and pick up the letter. The envelope is purple. Strange. I shake my head and open the letter.

Alley under your window  
tonight at 7:00

There's no signature, but I'm sure that only Jason could have sent it.

For the next couple of hours I'm antsy. I think Mom notices, but she doesn't say anything. At six-forty-five, Mom grabs her keys, kisses me on the forehead and leaves for work. I jump up off the couch and run to my room to change.

I'm heading out the door at six-fifty-eight after several breathing exercises in the mirror. I just don't understand why Jason is asking me to meet him in the alley instead of just coming in through my window like he usually does.

The air is cold and I can see my breath as I lean against the brick building. My dad loved nights like this.

Fifth grade was the worst time for me, with all the bullies. It was a time when people didn't really trust the cops and that lack of trust was transferred to the kids. Unlike adults who just throw looks at you, kids threw harsh words.

I had come home crying after a particularly hard day. Carson was looking after me while Mom was at work and Dad was due home any minute. Carson had no clue how to calm me down and I still remember the look of relief that came across his face when Dad came home.

Dad picked me up, told Carson to be good and we went for a walk. The entire time Dad was quiet, the only thing coming out of his mouth was the wisps of his breath. I remember being confused, wondering why we were just walking around in silence.

About halfway through the walk, I realized what Dad wanted me to do. He wanted me to think. When we got home, Dad tucked me into bed and asked, "Do you know what to do now?"

I nodded.

I remember his smile. "Good girl."

Let's just say those bullies never bothered me again.

Ever since then I have always gone for a walk on cold nights to help make sense out of my life at the time.

I can see my breath now and I smile at the memory. But I'm quickly pulled out of it.

A laugh – no, a cackle, high pitched and maniacal – breaks through the air.

"Who's there?" I call out. The crackling continues. "Come out and show yourself!"

"So forceful!" A man steps out of the darkness, but stays within the shadows, concealing his face. His voice is eerily familiar. "No wonder the copycat has taken interest in you."

I hate playing games. "Why don't you stop being a coward and show me your face."

The laugh starts out low and gets louder and higher. The man takes a step out of the shadows. I gasp, backing away and tripping on my own feet, sending me to the ground.

The grin was one of a mad man. The suit was a sickly purple with a gross green tie to match. In his eyes I could see all the damage he had caused to countless lives.

It was the Joker.


	9. Night Flight

"Joker."

My skin crawls at the very mention of his name, even when it escapes my lips. Both my father and brother told me horror stories about the mad man that now stands in front of me. He leaves a path of destruction wherever he goes. Most people have the luxury of never meeting him. I, apparently, am not so lucky.  
"I'm glad to have an audience with you," the Joker says in his nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. "I've been wanting to chat, but you are a hard lady to contact."  
"What could you possibly want with me?" My face is growing hot and palms are covered in sweat.

"I have a little bone to pick with the Red Hood," he answers, "and you're going to help me get it to splinter."

So he's the so-called "boss" who wanted to make an offer to me to get to Jason. Well, I have only one answer…

"No way in hell," I hiss.

I didn't think it was possible, but the Joker's grin grew bigger.

"Well, you see, Ronnie. I'm in a tight spot." The Joker laughs, "Well, actually you're in a tight spot. I am on a tight schedule." The two goons from the first night appear at the Joker's left and right. The Joker fixes his flower on his lapel and says softly, "Get her."

I scramble up and run. I can't risk going home and the goons destroying the apartment. That would be hard to explain to my mother.

So instead, I keep running. I turn when my feet decide it's time to turn. I should've known my feet would get me into trouble. They turn me right into an alley blocked by a wall. Just like my dad. Unlike my dad, however, I run straight into the wall, hitting my head against the brick. I can feel the blood flowing from the wound.

"Shit." I look and look for a way out, but I have no luck.

"The little mouse got caught," teases Benny. "Now, be a good girl and come with us."

"Over my dead body," I growl back.

"Let's try to keep the body count down." Tim – er, Robin – drops down in front of me, blocking the goons' path.  
"You're getting better at the lines," Dick, aka Nightwing, says from the fire escape.

Benny smirks. "Sorry, Boy Wannabes, we have orders not to engage," and with that Benny and his boy take off in the direction he came from.

"Should we go after them?" Tim asks.

Dick shakes his head, "Nah. They're not worth it."

I sigh, "I wouldn't say that, Dick."

He raises an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"They're Joker's henchmen."

"Whoa." Tim stands next to me, his arms crossed. "What did you do to get on his bad side?"

I bite my lip. "He's after Jason."

Tim's forehead scrunches and then he turns to look at Dick. "Should we–"

"No," Dick cuts him off. He turns to me, "We'll help keep an eye on you, but Bruce has forbidden us from engaging in affairs with the Joker. And I just got back on his good side. Bruce's that is."

"I don't need more protection," I insist. "One bodyguard is enough. I'll be fine."

"Ronnie," Tim says, "your forehead is bleeding."

I touched the cut and my hand came away red and sticky. I'm becoming lightheaded from the blood loss. I shake my head to run the dizziness away. It doesn't work, but I pretend it does. "I'm fine, Tim. I just need to get home."

I take one step and my knees collapse under me. Dick catches me in time and I just go blank.

 

When I come to, I'm in a cave. I sit up a little too fast and have to cradle my head in my hand to stop the spinning.  
"The dizziness will go away soon."

I look up to find Bruce, cowl still up and covering his face, standing in front of me. His butler Alfred stood next to him with a silver tray. At a closer look, a needle and thread and a syringe rested on the tray. Bruce walks away without a word and Alfred approaches me.

"I have to be honest," he says in a quiet British accent, "this most certainly will hurt."

"Where am I?" I ask as Alfred sticks the thread through the needle. I flinch when he moves the needle towards my forehead.

"It's all right," Alfred whispers with a smile. He starts stitching up my cut, "To answer your question: the boys have nicknamed this place 'The Batcave.' Master – er Batman doesn't quiet approve of the name."

The Batcave. Okay, I'll bite. The needle hurts, but I don't complain. All I can think about is how the hell am I supposed to hide this from my mom?

"There," Alfred calls cheerfully, "all done."

"Black out time?" I guess. I doubt they want me to know how to get in and out of this place.

Alfred nods slowly, an apologetically look on his face. I roll up my sleeve and give him my arm. He sterilizes the inside of my elbow and sticks in the syringe.

The last words I hear are, "Good night, Ronnie."


	10. Stitches

"You really need to watch where you're going."

I groan as I sit up. I'm back in my bedroom, lying on the bed. Someone shoves a glass of ice water into my hands. Rubbing my sandpaper-like tongue on the roof of my mouth, I drain the cup of every last drop of water.

"Careful, you don't wanna get sick. And I'm not cleaning it up if you do."

I throw a look at the voice who, of course, turns out to be Jason. His helmet sits on my desk which the only source of light, my lamp, rests on. I glance at the clock to see its two-forty-five in the morning. Great.

"Considering you're in my room at almost three o'clock in the morning," I say as I pull my hair into a ponytail, "I'm gonna take a guess and say Tim told you what happened."

"Actually, it was Dick."

"Dick?" I repeat. "I thought you didn't talk to anyone but Tim?"

"Dick usually ignores me, but he knows what's been going lately, so he figured I deserved to know that you ran yourself into an alley."  
I think he just insulted me. Again. "Did he tell you who I was chased by?"

Jason nodded. "Joker's henchmen. Don't worry, I'm going figure out what the Joker wants."

I scoff, "Jason, he wants you. I just don't know what for."

"He probably wants to finish the job."

"Don't talk like that!" I yell. Just what I need, someone else to leave me.

"I'm not going anywhere," Jason promises. "I'm not letting paint-face get me again." He sweeps up his helmet from the desk. Before he turns to leave, Jason gently touches my stitches, his mouth and eyebrows giving away the emotion that hides behind his mask.

My life seems to fall into a routine for the next few weeks. At school, I use my free time with Tim, talking about his "adventures" and the crazy conversations between him and the former Robins. When I come home, I take time in between homework sessions to help Mom out until it's time for her to leave for the hospital. As soon as Mom's gone, Jason arrives and I get spend an hour or two talking.

I don't get a lot out of Jason. I mean, I got him to talk about the Batcave and things like that, but nothing personal. It's driving me insane.  
"But what was your life like before Bruce took you in?" I asked again.

Jason is leaning against my window seat, his arms crossed. "It doesn't matter what my life was like then."

"Oh, but it matters what I got for my fourth birthday?" I ask with huge amounts of sarcasm. "You keep saying that you want to know everything about me, but getting to know someone is a two way street."

"Hey, you know my favorite color," he replies, ignoring the real argument.

I throw my hands up in the air. "I can't just assume that it's red. It could have been purple for all I know."

"I think purple is a color we can rightfully rule out."

Okay, point taken. I stick my tongue out at him.

"I still think you could let me in as much as I have let you in," I say softly. "It took a lot for me to crack open my walls for you. All I'm asking is that you do the same."  
Jason sits on my window seat, sighing. "The people who raised me until I was ten were scum. My father was a petty crook who never came home after his sentence was over. My adoptive-mother died of a drug overdose."

I place my hand over my mouth to cover up my gasp. "I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter," he answers as he shakes his head. "A few weeks later, Bruce catches me trying to steal the tires off of the batmobile. He took me in once he found out I didn't have anywhere to go. He helped me channel my anger. Something I have lost since then, but I'm trying to get back."

I just let a smile pull at the corner of my mouth. He told me more than what I had asked for.

"What?' he asks.

I lift my shoulders. "You're letting me in. It’s nice."

"I don't know why," he mumbles. "I'm not an expressive person."

"Well, neither am I. But sometimes you find that person you know will listen."

Jason half-smiles at me. He knows I'm right. We both seemingly found that person.

He tells me more about growing up with Bruce, about they didn't always get along and that there were times he went too far to stop a criminal. There was something soothing to just listen to him for once. His voice was rough and harsh, but still deep and somewhat comforting.  
But Jason wasn't the only superhero in my life.

Lately, I have also found myself leaving the campus during free time with Tim more and more. Poor Kim hardly sees me anymore. Granted I don't see much of her either, but with the end of the school year approaching in a few months, we were drifting apart, especially since she was no longer in the singles club. Then again, did I really qualify to be a member anymore?

Normally, about once a month, I did the sneaking out from school with Kim, but now she had her boyfriend, Jake, to occupy her time.  
So, instead, I was sitting with Tim outside the coffee shop down the road when Tim lands a bombshell.

"So Bruce really has no idea that I know?" I ask as I take a sip of my Irish cream latte. Jason hadn’t mentioned anything about it either way, but I'm still surprised.   
"Bruce doesn't even know that I work with Jason several times a week," Tim laughs. "He likes to think he knows everything, but a lot of things slip through the cracks."

"But almost a month ago, I was in the Batcave and Alfred stitched my forehead up. He let me see Alfred!"

"Yeah," he nods, "but he thinks you just know about all of us in the masks. He's not sure if you know about the people behind them. And I don’t think that worries him so much since Alfred rarely leaves the mansion."

"Well, of course I know about the masked heroes of Gotham." I take another sip of my drink.

"So, what do the two of you do, anyway?" Tim prods. He's so nosey sometimes. He calls it "detective work."

I shrug, "We just talk, mostly."

"About what?"

My eyebrows pull together. "Mostly about me and my life. We hardly ever talk about him. It's kind of annoying, really. But lately I've been getting him to open up more. We’re not quite on even footing yet, but we’re getting there."

Tim smirks, "But you secretly enjoy the attention on you."

Stopping mid sip, I ask, "What makes you say that?"

"You never talk about yourself. You're always the one who listens to everyone else's problems without ever venting yourself."

I sigh, "I don't really vent to him. If anything, I just talk about my past, my family, things like that. I'm afraid that if I start venting about my trigonometry teacher, he'll realize that I'm nothing special. That I'm just like every other whiny high school girl. Then he'll be gone."

Slowly, I twirl my straw around in my now cold coffee. I've never voiced that fear before, but it's true. I'm still not entirely sure what keeps Jason around. I mean, I listen to him and we get along fine, but adopted son a billionaire? He could get any model that he wanted. Jason wasn't bad looking either. I, on the other hand, am not exactly the kind of girl guys flaunt on their arms.

Tim smiles at me, "You are special, Ronnie. You know how to take care of yourself. You're not afraid to speak your mind when stupid people are being really stupid."  
Well, that shut me up. But Tim wasn't done.

"At the same time, you have flaws. You jump to conclusions and you love to argue."

"I do not!"

Tim raises an eyebrow. Okay, maybe he's right.

I shrink back into my chair. Well, I don't necessarily love to argue, I just do it a lot. I blame it on growing up with my brother.

"I'm still not convinced that he's not going to just disappear one day," I admit.

"Good," Tim nods. "Because he really might. Not saying that he'd do it on purposed. It's just best to be prepared."


	11. Caught

Tonight, Jason's running late so I turn on my laptop and for something to listen to on Youtube. That's when I remember a certain song. One of my favorites from a band that didn’t get enough recognition. 

"The Cab? Really?"

I swivel my chair around to face him. "Yeah. This song reminds me of you." I bite my lower lip.  
"I'm no angel," Jason answers solemnly.

Standing up, I walk over to Jason. Placing my hands at the bottom of his helmet, I pull up and remove it, placing it on my desk. "You're my angel with a shotgun." I laugh. “Or at least with two nine millimeter glocks.”

I don't what is up with me tonight, but I am certainly a lot flirtier than usual. Jason notices too.  
He smirks, "I'm a sinner not a saint."

I roll my eyes and shut him up with a kiss. Jason cuts the kiss short, however.  
"I can't stay tonight."

I groan while Jason just laughs at me. For payback, I snatch up his helmet and try to run away. Try being the operative word. Jason catches me by my waist and we fall onto my bed.

Lo and behold, our lips meet. With help from me, Jason strips off his jacket. His hand finds it way under my shirt, his thumb tracing my hip. My own hand suddenly develops a mind of its own and starts pulling up on Jason's shirt.

"Whoa, there," Jason mumbles against my lips.

"Sorry." I push him away as I feel my cheeks blush. "Got carried away. You do that to me."

"Trust me, it's a two way street."

I throw him his jacket and he shrugs it on. I hold onto the helmet as we make our way to the window.

"Good luck," I hand him the helmet. "And thank you for stopping by, even if it was just for two seconds."

"I'll try not to die out there."

I don't like the comment, but I blow it off. "Heaven might not take you back."

Catching the reference, Jason rolls his eyes. "I don't care. It wouldn't be heaven, anyway."

That makes me smile. Jason gives me one last kiss on the forehead, replaces his helmet and disappears. I close window with a heavy sigh.  
"Ronnie!"

I whirl around to find my brother standing in the doorway to my room. "Carson?"

"What was he doing here?" Carson yells.

Carson rushes to the window. He throws it open and leans out.

I can't tell him the truth. Well, maybe not the whole truth.

"He-he was j-just returning my locket," I stammer. Technically that would be true if it was almost two months ago.

"You're lying, Ronnie," Carson turns back around after shutting the window. "I can always tell when you're lying."

"Why does it matter why he was here?" I challenge.

My brother looks at me like I've gone crazy. "He's a criminal."

"No, he’s not," I say, shaking my head. “Not anymore.”

"Oh, did he tell you that?" Carson gestures to the open window. His tone was condescending.

I don't answer. I never answer when he talks to me like I'm four years old.

"Never let him back in here," my brother growls.

Now it's my turn to look at him like he's gone crazy. "You can't tell me what to do."

"People get hurt around him!" Carson's hands are fists at his side. He yells, "I won't let that happen to you!"

"He won't hurt me," I yell back.

"Like hell!"

We've had our fights, but never like this. It hurts, but I can't back down. This is my life. I finally have someone who understands, who actually listens. Carson can't take that away. "You don't know him and you don't know me!"

"I'm your brother, of course I know you!"

"No you don't!" I scream. Tears are starting to run down my face. They're hot and sting as they fall down. "You're never around. You have no right to tell me how to live my life because you left it to be like Dad!"

That last one is like a knife to the back. I can tell by the look on his face. Without another word, Carson storms out and slams the apartment door shut.


	12. Carson's Choice

The next day, school is hard to get through, but I make it. I think it being pajama day for Spirit Week helped. I normally can't stand Spirit Week, but on the day I can just roll out of bed and put a bra on, I tolerate it.

I decide that today I am going to walk home rather than ride with Kim or take the bus, to help me clear my head. As I reach the bottom of the front steps, someone grabs my hand and yanks me to the side of the building, causing me to almost trip on my red plaid flannel PJs.  
When we're finally alone, my kidnapper turns around to face me. I almost faint.

"Jason?"

I'm shocked. I've never seen Jason out before sunset. But that's not the most shocking aspect to this situation.  
He's not wearing a mask.

I've never seen his eyes, only wondered what color they could possibly be, but now… they're hypnotic. Not really blue, not quiet green, but somewhere in between. It took me a few seconds to break away and realize the situation at hand.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, panicking.

"I figured I'd do something special and take you out on a date."

Ummm… "Are you serious?"

Jason's smile tells me he is.

Well, can't beat 'em, join 'em. "Okay, then. Where are we going?"

"You'll see." I follow Jason to a black and red Ducati. Of course. And the list of reason why my dad would shoot him if he was alive keeps growing. Jason kicks a leg over the motorcycle and pats the seat behind him. Shaking my head, I swing my own leg over and he hands me a helmet. “Safety first.”

After a crazy ride, Jason parks the motorcycle. I jump off and realize where we are.

"Does this really count as a date considering I come here every Thursday anyway?" I ask, removing the helmet.

I follow Jason into the shooting range as he answers, "Of course it counts. I'm paying."

I roll my eyes and ask the front desk for the Smith & Wesson stored under my name.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Man, does my gun feel good in my hand. No cliché dinner-and-a-movie date. No, instead, Jason and I battle it out in the range. He booked the whole range just for the two of us. No one else is allowed to come around and disturb us.

Once my clip is empty, I remove my headset and bring my target paper forward.

"I'm gonna call it a tie," Jason smirks, "even though I obviously won."

I look over to Jason's target. He's right. While at first glance our targets look almost the same, any professional could see that Jason is the better shot. A lot better. I look at the time on my cell phone.

"And it's seven-thirty. I've missed catching my mom before she went to work."

“Will she be worried about you?” Jason asks oddly. 

I shake my head. “No, I often go over to Kim’s house after school to study. She’ll check in with me later during her break.”

Jason nods and we leave the range. He drops me off in front of the apartment with a promise to be back in less than ten minutes. I hurry up the stairs, freezing in my tank top.

The door is locked like I expected, but when I look down the light is on. Weird, since Mom is usually energy conscious. I open the door and gasp.  
My brother is on the couch in full uniform, which is normal for when he stops by, but he isn't alone. Commissioner Gordon is also here along with three other cops. The door shuts behind me and I turn around. Batman is here as well.

"Carson," I say, turning on him, "I get you're protective, but this is extreme, even for you."

Without looking at me, Carson says softly, "Jack Dodge died today."

I step back, "What?"

"He was conscious for about twenty seconds," Carson explains. "All he said was 'Red Hood. Revenge.' Then he died. Red Hood and Dodge never crossed paths before the beating." He finally looks at me. "We think he did it for you."

I shake my head, "I didn't ask him–"

"We know."

I look at each person in the room. "You're going to take him the minute he gets here?"  
"I'm sorry," Gordon says, "but we have to."

"No." I shake my head more. "No." I make my way to my room, dodging the officers. I manage to shut my door and lock it.  
"Ronnie, open this door!"

Carson continues to bang on the door while I run to my window. I'm just in time for Jason to enter my room.

"You have to go," I urge, pushing him back out. "My brother's here with the Commissioner and Bruce."

"Why?" Jason asks, resisting my shove. "What happened?"

"Jack Dodge died a few hours ago and named you as his beater before he died."

“Shit,” Jason groaned. "Ronnie, I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

I kiss his helmet. "I know. Go, please."

He nods and leaves just as Bruce breaks open the door.

"No!" Carson yells. He runs to the window, repeating what he did the other night. He turns on me, "Ronnie, do realize what you've done? You’ve helped a fugitive escape!"

"We won't take her in," Gordon says. "She's just a kid."

"I should let you take her," Carson growls.

I stare at him in disbelief. This wasn't the justice seeking way of a cop. This was bloodthirsty vengeance.  
"Dad would be ashamed of you," I whisper.

Carson marches up to me until we're nose to nose. "No, Dad would be ashamed of you. Dad believed that those who break the law should be punished. Red Hood breaks the law every day. He needs to be put away, Ronnie."

I can feel the tears running down my cheeks. I turn to Bruce.

"You know he doesn't deserve to go to jail. You know!"

He doesn't answer. Of course he doesn't. I push past him. I run out of the apartment and keep going out into the street. I turn down the first alley I see and keep backing up, facing the street. I don't want them to find me. I need to be alone. I can't go to any of my usual places, not anywhere they can find me.

"Poor little girl. My copy-cat's little kitten looks upset."

I gasp and swirl around. A man steps into the light.

"Joker." The name is like poison in my mouth. Especially now that I know what he did to Jason.

Joker just laughs as I stand there. Metal and pain meet the back of my head and all I see is black.


	13. Pain

When I come to I let out a groan, but keep my eyes closed. I'm lying face down on a concrete floor and the light beaming down on me is intense enough so come through my eyelids. I move my body to find that, while my feet are free, my wrists are bound by rope in front of me. Finally, I allow my eyes to open slowly.  
Working my way up onto my knees, I look around to take in my surroundings. Wooden crates of varying sizes are spread out across the room. The walls are high and the only windows are at the top of the walls way out of my reach. I sigh.

I'm in a warehouse.

"Admiring the scenery, dearie?"

I turn around and hiss, "Joker." He just laughs. "What do you want me with me?" I demand. "You have me, not Red Hood!"

The Joker, whose hands have been behind his back, cackles as he reveals a crowbar.

I squirm away from him, but Benny shoves me towards Joker, scraping my entire left forearm against the concrete in the process.

"You see," Joker grabs my face with one hand and brings it close to his as he admires the crowbar in his other hand, "your little motorcycle-gang wannabe kidnapped me and beat me senseless with a crowbar. Now, the reunion was all good fun, but I didn't get any pictures. So I figured we'd try again. That's why I've been trying to get you to help me out. Unfortunately, you were less than cooperative, so I decided to let you join in and be the main focus of the show."  
"So this is about revenge?" I can't believe it. He really is insane. "You beat him with that crowbar first and then blew up the warehouse. I'd say that after your own beating, the score is even."

Joker drops my face and takes a swing at my stomach like the crowbar was a golf club. I groan and then cough. I can feel blood on the corner of my lips.  
"You see, Smarty-pants, I don't like ties. I'm always the guy with the last laugh!" The Joker continues his swings, hitting my face, stomach and wherever else the crowbar happens to land. "Tell me," he coos, "which hurts more: forehand," swing and hit, "or backhand," swing and hit.

"You need to get some new jokers," I huff.

"You need to watch that mouth." His next swing landed on my jaw. After that, the Joker just keeps swinging.

Coughs escape me while I try to keep my mouth shut and endure it. The crowbar catches the side of my jaw, throwing me to the side a couple inches. I always feared about going the same way as my dad. Looks like my end will be bloodier and more painful. The Joker really isn't that creative.

But what hurts most isn't where the crowbar meets my skin, but the knowledge that this is what Jason had to endure for hours. He's not my world necessarily, but more like a satellite and nothing would be the same if he was no longer in my orbit. I care about him. His hurt is mine and I know right now he's hurting. He must be because I know he cares for me too. If he knows that I'm missing, if he knows that Joker has me, he'll come. I just hope he comes in time.

So I lie here and take it, blow after blow. I try not to give the Joker the satisfaction of hearing my pain, but sometimes I can't hold it in. A groan and a cry of pain escape me every now and again.

Right as I feel myself losing consciousness, there's a crash and gunfire starts. My vision blurs, but I can see a shadow that can only be Batman taking out the henchmen as another red and brown blur makes its way to the Joker. Hired gun after hired gun comes out of nowhere, fighting my rescuers at every turn. Joker has stopped hitting me, enjoying the new show playing out for him.

After Jason knocks out the last of the goons, he punches Joker in face and then grabs him by his jacket collar.

"You son of a bitch. I should put a bullet between your eyes." Even I believe Jason. His anger is evident in his voice even with his face concealed behind the helmet. Jason's gun is drawn and pressed up against Joker's forehead.

"But this is all so much fun!" Joker laughs. "Even the first boy-blunder is here! I need to get a picture!"

I hadn't noticed that Dick was here too. It's so hard to stay awake right now.

"No, Jason." Bruce walks over to them. "He isn't the one who needs your attention right now. The police can handle Joker."

Jason looks at Bruce and that's when his eyes find me. He knocks out the Joker and runs towards me, ripping his helmet off. He picks me up and holds me in his arms. Just before I go under, one word escapes my lips.

"Jason."


	14. Angels and Bruises

A bright light surrounds me when I wake up again. Like before, I'm face down, but this time I can't tell what I'm lying on.

"Open your eyes, Sweetheart." That voice. It can't be.

I obey the voice, opening my eyes as I sit up. It's him. It's really him kneeling in front of me.

"Daddy." I throw myself into his arms, tears flowing from my cheeks. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, Ronnie," he whispers in my ear. His arms are strong and familiar around me. I never thought I would get to experience one of my father's hugs again.

Then it hits me. "Wait," I pull out of his embrace, "where am I?"

Dad's smile fades.

"You're… in-between." He looks over his shoulder nervously.

"What do you mean?" I follow his gaze to find a man in white robes standing a few feet away. "Who's that?"

Dad brings my face back to looking at him. "You have a choice to make, Ronnie. You can go back or you can come with me."

Suddenly this reunion doesn't seem so wonderful. "Oh. That 'in-between.'" I think about what it would be like to be with my dad again. I'd never have to worry about something bad happening. I could just spend eternity laughing with him again. But then there's the ones back home. I shake my head. "I can't. Mom needs me. And Jason, too. And," a lump comes up in my throat, "and Carson…." I look down, away from my father, shame filling me up from last time I saw my brother.

Dad puts his hand on my cheek. "Ronnie, look at me." I obey. "Carson was right, I do believe in crime and punishment, but… he was also wrong. I believe in standing by what you believe in way more than justice and you didn't falter one bit when it came to Jason. You saw someone who wasn't evil, but lost and helped him find his way. I'm not ashamed of you, Ronnie. I am the proudest father that has ever been."  
The tears are back and I hug my father harder than before.

"I'm ready to go back." The words were hard to say, but I knew it was the right choice.  
"That's my girl." Dad kisses my forehead and I'm gone.

This time, I wake up back on Earth in a hospital bed. I feel pressure on my right hand and I look over to see my mom smiling at me.  
"Oh, thank goodness you're awake," she exclaims.

"How long was I out?" I ask as Mom helps me sit up.

"You were in a drug-induced coma for two weeks while your body healed. It's still healing, but the doctors took you out of it last night. They weren't sure when, or if, you'd wake up." Her eyes are watery.

Oh, no. I didn't even think about her when I ran out that night. What it could do to her or what could have happened. "Mom, I–"  
"One second, sweetie." Mom reaches behind me and presses a button, going into nurse mode.  
A woman answers over the bedside intercom. "Yes?"

"She's awake," Mom tells her.

"Thank you. I'll inform the doctor."

Mom grabs my hand. "Now, what is it, Ronnie?"

I take a deep breath, worried at her reaction. "Mom, I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "It's not your fault. If anything, it's–"

"Don't say it," I interrupt. "I'm sorry, Mom, and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about him, but don't you dare blame him."  
Mom sighs and put her head in her hands.

I bite my lip. "You don't… agree with Carson, do you?"

"I don't know, sweetie," she whispers. "I like to think of the best in people, but, after what he did and what’s happened to you because of him, I just don't know."  
Just then the doctor comes in.

"Hello, Ronnie. I'm Doctor Meloni." He checks the machines and then turns back to me. "All your vitals are normal. Better than normal for this situation, actually, which is unusual, but not unwanted. Now, let's check those bruises." Dr. Meloni starts with my face.

I feel awkward, not knowing where to look while the doctor examines the bruises on my face. Next he moves to my arms and then my stomach. It's the first time I see my skin and I flinch. I'm black, blue and yellow. I don't understand how Mom can just sit there with a straight face.  
Then again, she is an ER nurse.

Dr. Meloni finishes up with my legs and then sighs. "You know, Miss Reid, I am still amazed that not a single bone was even cracked."

"She's always been like that," Mom says. "Her and her brother could fall out of a tree and walk away without a scratch."

Dr. Meloni nods, obviously impressed. "I'll come back and check up on you again in a few hours." And with that he leaves.

I turn to Mom, fearing the answer to a question I have to ask. "Mom, has Carson come by?"

Mom shakes her head. "No, not since the first day. But he calls, every day at ten a.m. and then again at seven p.m." She takes my hand, "You two will make up. You always do."

I cringe. "This one might take a while."

Knock, knock.

"Come in," Mom calls.

The door opens and in walks Tim and Dick.

"Hey, guys!" I'm happy and disappointed at the same time. "What are you doing here?"

"Bruce told the doctor to inform him the second you woke up. We rushed right over," Tim explained.

"I'll leave you with your friends," Mom says, touching my cheek. "I need to grab something to eat anyway. I'll be right back."

As soon as she's gone, I say, "Okay, I understand Tim being here, but I honestly don't know you that well, Dick."

Dick smiles, "Actually, we're just a cover."

I tilt my head sideways. "What are–"

The door opens again and someone walks in. Tim and Dick separate to reveal the newcomer.  
My world lights up. "Jason?"

He smiles and sits in the chair that my mom had occupied before while Tim and Dick sneak out.

"I am so sorry," Jason says thickly. His eyes are red from a combination of lack of sleep and possibly crying. I have never seen Jason even on the verge of crying.  
"It's not your fault," I say, taking his hand. "It's his and only his."

Jason gives me his "you're crazy" look. "Have you seen yourself?"

I clear my throat, "Bits and pieces."

Jason lets out a disgusted sigh. "There's no reasoning with you."

"Good," I spit. "You're learning."

Jason sighs, "Look, Ronnie, I might need to go away for a little while."

I wait for the punchline or the "I'm just joking" grin. I take one look at him, realize he's serious and smack him upside the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" Jason asks as he rubs the spot I had hit.

"For being an idiot," I clarify. "You're not going anywhere."

"Ronnie, it'll be better for everyone if I go," he pleads.

"Jason, I just got beat within an inch of my life by a crowbar-bearing lunatic. What I need is for you to be by my side while I heal. I don't know where the notion of you leaving would be good for me but let's get one thing straight. The body can only heal if it isn't under stress. You leaving would cause me stress, ergo you have to stay."

I can tell he wants to argue. I can see the conflict inside his blue-green eyes. Finally, he sighs.

"Okay," Jason nods, "okay, you win." He kisses my head.

"Good," I nod even though it hurts to. My neck is so stiff, but I don't wince in fear of Jason's reaction.

Tim opens the door, "Mom alert."

Jason stands up.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"Your mom's smart enough to make the connection of who I am if she finds me in here."

I don't like it, but I nod and Jason slips out of the room along with Tim and Dick. Mom comes in a minute later.

"Where did your friends go?" she asks.

I lie, "Bruce needed them back home."

Mom accepts this and continues, "I have good news. The doctor said he's going to release you tonight. All the paperwork is done. We're just waiting on the nurse."


	15. Letters

Later that night, I settle on my window seat and don't move. Moving hurts anyway. Mom brings me hot chocolate.

"Sweetie, why don't you get into bed?"

I shake my head, "I can't sleep. Not until he comes. Besides, I've been asleep for two weeks."

Mom sighs, "He might not come."

"Don't say that!" I snap. Seeing the hurt on Mom's face, I apologize, "I'm sorry. He'll come. I know he will." I just hope Carson isn’t waiting downstairs with the cavalry. 

"Don't worry yourself sick," Mom warns. She kisses my forehead, "Give him time. He'll need it."

Mom's cell phone rings in the next room. I check the time and it's exactly seven o'clock. So that must be Carson. Mom leaves to answer it and never comes back into my room. I know Carson won't ask for me and I won't ask to speak with him. I don't move. My muscles begin to groan in protest, begging me to move or stretch, but I fight the urge, staying as still as a statue. 

I fall asleep on the window seat and no one wakes me up.

For a while I follow this new routine. I finish all my homework and test at home, delivered daily by Tim so I can finish the year. I talk to Tim whenever he stops by, although he's good at hiding things and refuses to give any information on Jason.

"I haven't seen him," is all the answer Tim will give me before we move on to other topics.

Every moment I have to myself is spent waiting by my window. Mom tries to bribe and threaten me away from my perch. Nothing works.

When a week of waiting goes by, I decide I'm done waiting. As soon as Mom is gone for work, I pull on my jacket and lock the apartment, hailing a cab once I'm outside.

"Where to, Miss?" the driver asks. There's only one person who could have changed Jason's mind.

"Wayne Manor," I answer.

The cabbie gives me an odd look. "You sure?"

I nod once, staring out the window. "Yes, sir."

The drive is quiet and quick. Perhaps the cab driver picked up on my tone and knew I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. I pay him in cash when we arrive and he drives off. I don't bother to ring the doorbell or knock, I walk right in.

Finding the piano by the bookcase in the left parlor was easy. Jason told me about the instrument when he explained to me more about the cave. I close my eyes and remember his hand on mine when he showed what keys to play on my mother's keyboard in the living room. I play those same notes on Bruce's piano. The bookcase slides open and I follow the stairs.

"Bruce!"

He's at the computer I had seen the last time I was here. Bruce has already donned his costume, but his cowl is lowered. After he turns around and sees me, he stands up and makes his way towards me.

Tim, as Robin, drops from who-knows-where. "Ronnie, how–"

Bruce holds up a hand to silence Tim. Seeing him commanding Tim around sets me off and I explode, punching and pushing Bruce's chest with my fists while he just stands there and takes it.

"How dare you!" I scream. "How dare you make him leave! I needed him! I need him here! Why did you make him leave? Why!" I stop punching and just sob in his arms. "I need him here. I love him."

After a few seconds, Bruce says, "I didn't make him leave. He did that on his own. I didn't want him to go either. I tried to make him see reason. I've even got the commissioner to back down off of him, but he wouldn't stay."

I pull out of Bruce's embrace and dry my eyes. "He said that he wouldn't leave."

"I know. I tried to get him to stay, but he said it was for the best. I couldn't make him stay against his will." Bruce walks over to the computer, picks up an envelope and hands it over to me. "He knew your habit of assuming would lead you here. He asked me to give this to you."

I take the envelope and go over to the stairs. Sitting down a few steps up, I carefully open the envelope, taking out the letter. I'm afraid what it might contain, but I start reading.

 

Ronnie,

I know I promised to stay, but I can't. And it's not because of you or what had happened to you. There's something I have to take care of. Old business that needs attending. I hate leaving you with no answers. Don't worry, I won't be alone. Roy, who got me to be involved in this business in the first place, is somewhat reliable. More letters will come soon. That's a promise I am going to keep. And, Ronnie, I know I never got to say this out loud, but I love you. I really do.  
Wait for me,

J.

P.S. Look in the envelope. 

 

With watery eyes, I look in the envelope. A small card is inside. When I open is, a small photo falls out. The card reads:  
It's old, I know, but it'll work for now. Keep it close. It should be the right size.

I pick up the picture and examine it. It's definitely of Jason, but he's much younger, fifteen or sixteen years old. The smile on his face is so contagious, even through the picture. I can't help but smile too.

Tim comes over and sits beside me as I place the picture in my locket.

"He'll come back," Tim reassures me. "He always does."

"That's all I have to hang onto." I turn to face Tim. "Who's Roy?"

Tim laughs. "An old friend. He's a goofball and sometimes an idiot, but loyal to the core. He'll always have Jason's back."

"Tim!" Bruce calls. "Time to go!"

Tim gives me a hug and runs to the batmobile. Alfred comes up to me with a tray.

"Hot cocoa, Miss Reid?"

I smile. He's so normal even though he's standing in a cave under his vigilante employer's house.

"Thank you, Alfred," I take the mug. The cocoa is lukewarm, but still good. As I watch the batmoblie drive away, I think of how Bruce and Tim will come back. And so will Jason.

I have to hold onto that.


End file.
